


Harley is having way too much fun

by KByrd



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Body Swap, F/M, First Kiss, Gen, Identity Reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:26:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24826774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KByrd/pseuds/KByrd
Summary: After a bit of tricky magic that is hard to explain, Peter and Harley wake up in each other's bodies.
Relationships: Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker
Kudos: 66





	1. The swap

Peter wakes up feeling like he’s underwater, sounds are muffled, smells are fainter than usual. Even so, he can tell that he’s in an alley, smushed up against a wall.

“Hey dude, you OK?” someone says, touching him lightly on his shoulder.

He jumps because he hadn’t sensed the person and also, the voice is weirdly familiar …

He mumbles something unintelligible and his voice is raspy. He rubs his throat and stumbles clumsily to his feet, relieved to see that he’s in his street clothes, not his Spider-man gear. But something doesn’t feel quite right.

“Holy shit!” exclaims the voice of the kid who woke him.

Peter blinks up at him wondering why the light is faint and everything is so … muted?

The kid, the teen standing opposite him, is … him. Peter blinks again, rubbing his eyes. The guy is a clone or mirror image of Peter.

The guy who looks like Peter Parker scowls. “Who the hell are you?” he asks fiercely.

“I’m Peter.”

“You look like my long lost twin,” the teen says sullenly. The voice sounds familiar, but there’s an odd softness, a faint southern accent.

Peter looks down at his body, at his hands that are bigger than he’s used to. “This isn’t me,” he says slowly. “There’s something wrong.”

The boy who looks like Peter squints at him and then looks at his own hands. “Why is my voice so squeaky?” he asks. “And my hands … and why is everything so bright?”

They both look at each with dawning awareness. “No way …”

“I need to talk to somebody,” Peter says sharply. He looks around, spots his knapsack and pulls out his phone. He swipes at the screen and it blinks stubbornly and refuses to accept his fingerprint. He swipes again. And again. “What the hell?”

“Here,” the other kid snaps. “Give it here.”

“It’s mine,” Peter objects.

The boy plucks it out of his hand and swipes the screen. The green light flashes and the passcode screen appears.

“Fuck,” Peter mutters.

He dials Starks’s number. It rings longer than usual and when Tony picks up, his voice is muffled and groggy. “This better be a fucking emergency,” he growls.

“It is,” Peter assures him.

“Wait?” Tony grumbles. “Who is this? Harley?”

Peter freezes.

The other boy perks up. “Are you calling Tony Stark?” he asks.

“You know Tony Stark?” Peter asks.

“Yeah!” he laughs and plucks the phone out of Peter’s hand. “Hey asshole,” he says gleefully. “We have a bit of a situation here.”

Peter can imagine Tony spluttering.

“Yeah,” the boy says. “Me and this other boy, um Peter, we seem to have switched bodies. Yeah … like for real. He looks like me and I look like him. What? Sure.” He hands the phone to Peter.

“What did I call you when we went to Germany?” Tony asks sharply.

“Ah … underroos …?” Peter says.

“OK,” Tony says. “And are you in … ah… street clothes right now?”

“Yeah,” Peter says carefully, uncomfortably aware that the other kid now has super hearing. “I was out patrolling last night, but I must have been on my way home. I don’t actually remember anything past about midnight.”

“But you have your suit with you?”

Peter checks the knapsack for the telltale red spandex. “Yeah.”

Tony sighs. “OK. Go home, take Harley with you and download the footage from your suit. Send me the file and I’ll see what I can figure out. I’m in California right now so it’s way too fucking early for this kind of stuff, but we’ll sort it. Don’t worry.”

“OK.” Peter hangs up.

“I heard that,” the other boy says.

“What’s your name?” Peter asks.

“Harley … Harley Keener.”

“You go to Midtown tech, right?” Peter recalls.

“How’d you know that?”

Peter shrugs. “You’re new … from the south, right? Everyone was curious about you.”

The boy looks down at his … Peter’s … scruffy shoes and baggy jeans. “You go to Midtown, too?”

“Yeah,” Peter nods. “I’m a junior.” He gestures awkwardly and leads them down the street. They’re not far from his apartment.

They make uncomfortable small talk.

“How’d you know Stark?” Harley asks.

“I work for him … it’s a paid internship,” Peter answers. “And you?”

“He crashed into my garage when I was 11 and we’ve kept in touch.”

Peter gives him a side-eye.

It’s early, but Peter is hopeful that May has already left. He searches his pockets for the key until Harley digs out a key chain from his own jeans and silently hands it to him.

“Thanks.”

“May?” he calls carefully as they enter. There’s no response.

“Where’s your bathroom?” Harley asks.

Peter points him down the hall and then makes a beeline for his own room. He detaches the usb key and hides the suit.

He chances a quick look in the mirror behind the door. Looking back at him is a scruffy teenaged boy – slightly taller than Peter, with shaggy light brown hair and a shadow of stubble on his jaw.

Peter grabs his laptop and returns to the living room searching the pile of stuff on the shelf for his charger.

“What the hell?” May’s voice startles him.

He jumps.

May looks angry and fierce, standing in the doorway of her bedroom.

“May!” Peter exclaims. He’s uncomfortably aware of how terrible it must look for a teen she does not know to be rifling through their stuff.

“Who the hell are you?” she snaps.

Harley appears in the hallway. “Oh hey,” he says with a distinctly southern drawl. “Mom?”

“Jesus!” Peter swears at Harley. “Are you some kind of idiot?”

“I’m guessing I should know who you are, right?” Harley says warily to May.

May reaches for her purse.

“You don’t need the taser!” Peter says sharply. “I know this is weird, but I’m Peter and he’s Harley.”

May pulls her taser out of her purse and aims it first at Peter, then at Harley.

“And we look like each other because we somehow did this like body swap thing and switched bodies …” Peter babbles quickly.

She scowls.

“Ask me anything,” he suggests quickly. “We had spaghetti last night, your birthday is May 4th, you think Diego Luna is cute, you cry at commercials with puppies …”

May lowers the taser warily. “What’s your mother’s birthday?” she asks.

“December 11th,” he answers promptly.

“Where’d we go on our last holiday?”

“Boston.”

“What’s your favourite dessert of mine?”

Peter makes a face. “Your ginger cookies aren’t bad, but I prefer Lindt chocolates.”

May looks at Harley-in-Peter’s-body.

He holds up his hands in a surrender pose. “I got nothing,” he says.

She lowers the taser completely. “I WISH this were the weirdest thing you’ve ever gotten mixed up in,” she says fiercely. “How did this happen? Were you ….” she glances carefully at Harley and then back to Peter, “out … last night?”

“Um yeah, I think so, but I’m not sure. I don’t really remember. I’m going to send Tony some data.”

Harley squints at the obvious subtext of both of them hinting at something that can’t be said.

May walks over to the kitchen. “So you’ve been in touch with Tony?”

“Yeah.”

“And he can fix this?”

“I’m sure he can.”

“And in the meantime, what are you going to do about school?”

“As it so happens,” Harley volunteers, “we both go to Midtown Tech.”

May gives Peter a sharp look.

“We can’t!” he complains.

“You’ve missed a shit load of school already,” she points out.

“People will figure it out,” Peter objects. “I can’t pretend to be Harley; he can’t be … me.”

“For a day?” she asks archly.

“He’s a senior,” Peter points out.

“So?”

“I’ll see what Tony says,” Peter mutters.

“I’ll text him my opinion,” May says. “You boys need to figure your shit out.”

She sighs and leaves, shaking her head.

“What kind of crazy stuff do you get up if this ISN’T the weirdest?” Harley asks as Peter settles on the couch to upload the usb data.

“Eh,” he says vaguely. “The Stark internship is kind of intense.”

“I didn’t know Stark did that sort of thing,” Harley says with a grin. “I’m going to demand that Tony put me on the payroll too.”

Peter blinks in surprise at the sheer arrogance of the statement.

Harley wanders around the living room, looking at, but not touching the pictures. “So if she’s not your mom,” he asks, “who is May?”

“She’s my guardian,” Peter explains absently, typing away. “My parents died when I was a kid. And my uncle Ben died a couple of years ago so now it’s just me and aunt May.”

“Huh. You have bad luck families too, I see.”

“I guess,” Peter mutters. “And you?”

“Dad walked out when I was a kid,” Harley says. “Times have been tough for me and mom and my little sister, but Tony helps out where he can.”

Peter gives him a curious look.

“And this year, we upped sticks and moved to New York,” Harley explains. “More opportunities, you know? Better school and all.”

“Uh huh.”

“What’s this data you’re sending to Tony?”

“It’s kind of like a go-pro camera,” Peter frowns. “Only a bit more … well it’s Stark technology so you can just imagine. Hopefully Tony will be able to figure out what happened.”

Peter’s cellphone vibrates and he snatches it up. Once more the screen refuses to accept his fingerprint. Harley plucks it out of his hand, swipes his finger and hands it back to Peter.

He sighs. “Hey,” he greets Tony.

“Your aunt hottie pants is harassing me,” Tony complains. “What have you got against school?”

“Nothing,” Peter grumbles. “Except I can’t see either of us passing for each other. I don’t have a southern accent and he’s … I don’t know.”

“I’m tied up in important grown-up stuff all day,” Tony says. “It’s gonna take a while to sort this mess out. Go to school today. What else are you gonna do?”

Peter sighs.

“Let me talk to Harley,” Tony demands.

Harley takes the phone. “Yeah, no, ok, sure …” he says in answer to Tony’s questions. He hangs up.

“Tony says I should stay here since your aunt already knows the deal. I’ll text mom to say that I’m with Tony – she won’t mind. And we’ll go to school and see if we can fool the teachers for a day. Sound like a plan?”

“Do I have a choice?” Peter asks.

“Not really.”


	2. Sensory overload

Harley and Peter walk to the subway station exchanging critical information about their classes and locker combinations.  
  
“You don’t have to pretend to put on a southern accent,” Harley assures Peter. “I’ve been working on a New York version of myself. And I’m so new, no-one really knows me anyway.”  
  
“Lots of people know me,” Peter grumbles.  
  
“It’ll be fine,” Harley laughs, clapping Peter on the back. “Might even be kinda fun.”  
  
It’s not exactly fun.  
  
Peter locates Harley’s locker and heads to his first class. Harley is a year older so he’s a senior, but Peter’s no slouch academically (when he finds time for homework) so he should be fine.  
  
“Mr. Keener,” his math teacher growls at him.  
  
“Err yeah?” Peter answers uneasily wondering about the unexpected hostility.  
  
“Nice of you to show up,” the teacher snaps. “Got an answer to question five?”  
  
“Err … yeah,” Peter nods. “It’s right here.”  
  
A girl sitting next to him, smirks.  
  
It’s advanced pre-university math and some of it is new, but Peter manages to figure it out.  
  
History is the same. The teacher scowls and appears to expect the worst of ‘Harley’. Peter can’t really understand it; Harley’s homework is done. He’s able to follow the lecture and participate in the exercise.  
  
A pretty girl slides him a note with a smiley face on it – Peter has no idea how to respond. He flips the note over wondering what it means and the girl winks.  
Weird.  
  
He meets Harley for lunch.  
  
“Snap quiz in Spanish,” Harley announces lazily. “I think I did OK. Not my best subject though.”  
  
“Crap, my grade is already so-so,” Peter grumbles.  
  
“I’m starving,” Harley complains. “And why are the lights so bright?”  
  
Ned joins them looking sad and somewhat betrayed. He frowns at Harley-who-looks-like-Peter.  
  
“Sorry,” Peter starts to explain. Harley glares and shushes him. Of course it makes no sense that Harley would talk to Ned (as far as Peter knows, they don’t know each other).  
  
“Harley and me are working on a project for Stark,” Harley-as-Peter says lightly. “Sorry – hope you don’t mind.”  
  
“Oh for Stark? Ned asks, looking baffled.  
  
“We discovered that we both have internships,” Harley says lightly. “Work in the same office even …”  
  
Peter scowls; Ned looks dubious.  
  
Peter eats Harley’s lunch, trying not to make a face at how bland and tasteless it is.  
  
He keeps an ear open for Ned’s chatter about Star Wars and the release of new comics. Luckily, Harley seems enough of a nerd to keep up.  
  
“Hey losers,” MJ joins them.  
  
Harley nudges Peter. Oh yeah – southern manners. Officially Harley doesn’t know MJ.  
  
He offers her his hand to shake. “Harley Keener,” he says, trying to keep his face neutral.  
  
“Michelle,” she nods.  
  
“We’re working on a project together,” Harley explains.  
  
They survive lunch although Ned looks increasingly more suspicious. Harley is rubbing his temples. Peter is wondering why Harley wears such tight jeans.  
  
A couple of senior girls walk by giggling and one of them looks over her shoulder at their group and waves.  
  
Ned and MJ glare at Peter-as-Harley. He shrugs.  
  
He manages to survive English literature (never his best class), but he’s just settling into the last class of the day when he over-hears a conversation that has his nerves jangling.  
  
“Did you hear Parker just about passed out in Civics?”  
  
“Said he had a migraine.”  
  
“I heard he was almost crying …”  
  
Peter stuffs his books into his bag and darts out of class, jogging down the mostly empty hallways.  
  
“Keener!” someone yells, but he ignores them.  
  
Last class is shop so he jumps down a flight of stairs, just about wipes out (oh yeah – no spidey reflexes) and opens the door.  
  
Harley is sitting at a long table at the back of the class with his head in his arms.  
  
The teacher scowls at Peter’s arrival.  
  
“Parker’s sick,” Peter explains. “I’m going to walk him to the nurse’s station.”  
  
The teacher nods.  
  
“Come on,” he says softly to Harley, easing him out of his chair.  
  
“Everything is so damn loud,” Harley mutters, squinting. “And bright …”  
  
“Sorry buddy,” Peter sighs. “I should have warned you.”  
  
He juggles their two book bags and guides Harley clumsily through the hallways. There’s no point in going to the nurse’s station so he heads outside and steers Harley towards the taxi stand.  
  
Harley hisses at the bright sunlight.  
  
“Close your eyes,” Peter urges him.  
  
“Worse migraine I’ve ever had,” Harley slurs. “Sorry dude. I think I broke your brain.”  
  
“Happens,” Peter says softly, internally cursing. He should have noticed the symptoms.  
  
He manhandles Harley into a cab and gives the driver directions.  
  
“I asked a girl in class for Motrin,” Harley says. “Doesn’t seem to be working.”  
  
“You did what?”  
  
“Girls always have Motrin,” Harley says seriously.  
  
“It doesn’t work on me,” Peter sighs. “Just gives me a stomach ache.”  
  
“Fuck it.”  
  
Peter rifles through his bag and comes up with the sound-cancelling earbuds and dark sunglasses. “Here put these on,” he says.  
  
“No, no, everything hurts,” Harley complains.  
  
“It’s called sensory overload,” Peter sighs.  
  
At this point, he’d be freaking out, well aware that he’s facing hours of pain, but Harley is just softly cricking his neck and rubbing his temples.  
  
They get home and Peter pulls down the blackout blinds in his room.  
  
“What is that noise?” Harley asks, his brow furrowing.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Like thump-thump …?”  
  
Peter knows exactly what he’s talking about but declines to answer.  
  
There’s not much he can do. Aunt May comes home early. “The school called me,” she says softly. Harley tosses and turns in Peter’s bed. He undresses because the clothes are too scratchy. He throws off the covers because they’re too heavy, yanks them back on because the cold air on his skin is unbearable. He buries his head under the pillow and complains bitterly about the noise and bright lights.  
  
“Isn’t there anything?” he demands. “Any medicine that works?”  
  
“Nope,” Peter answers sadly. “Anything you take will just make you nauseous.”  
  
And nauseous Harley is. He paces back and forth between the bedroom and the bathroom. He throws up, he has several showers. He nibbles at the bland food that May offers him and promptly throws up again.  
  
“How long does this usually last?” he asks.  
  
“Couple of hours.”  
  
“Fuck.”  
  
He lies down in bed, burying his head under a pillow. May runs her fingers through Harley’s hair and rubs the back of his neck. “I know he’s not you,” she tells Peter. “But he LOOKS like you … and he’s in pain.” She retreats to the living room.  
  
Peter sits in the dark bedroom and runs his fingers through Harley’s damp hair.  
  
Sometime in the middle of the night, Harley rolls over.  
  
“It’s your heartbeat,” he says.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I can hear your heartbeat,” Harley repeats. “And your aunt’s heartbeat in the other room. Who the hell has hearing like that?”  
  
“It’s a curse,” Peter shrugs. “And sometimes it’s all way too much and my brain just mis-fires. Hence the sensory overload.”  
  
“How often?”  
  
“Rarely now,” Peter says. “I can feel it coming on and I just retreat to a quiet room. Sorry I didn’t pick up on your symptoms to warn you.”  
  
Harley grunts and rolls over, hiding his head again.  
  
Peter lets him sleep and goes to doze on the couch.  
  
In the morning May wakes him up gently. “You should go to school,” she suggests. “He’ll appreciate the quiet.”  
  
Peter leaves spare keys on the counter and heads to Midtown for a second day of impersonating Harley.  
  
When he gets back, Harley is lounging on the couch watching Netflix.  
  
“Hey, how’d school go?” Harley asks Peter.  
  
“OK,” Peter answers. “I did pretty well in a chemistry test so that should bump your grade up.”  
  
Harley snorts.  
  
“And a girl gave me … you … her number and said something about a movie on Tuesday?”  
  
“Ah … Emily, right?” Harley nods. “It wasn’t an official date or anything. I just said that we should go on a Tuesday since the tickets are half price.” He takes the slip of paper that Peter offers and nods. “I’ll text her.”  
  
Peter looks around at the surprisingly clean apartment. “How are you feeling?”  
  
“Good,” Harley answers. “Surprisingly good. Woke up hungry and incredibly horny. And now I’m kind of … I don’t know how to describe it … sort of buzzed …”  
  
“Euphoric?”  
  
“Yeah … exactly. Is that typical?”  
  
Peter nods. “It’s like runner’s high. You know, when people run marathons and it hurts, their brains flood their bodies with endorphins and then when they stop running, they feel REALLY good. It’s like that for me with pain. Once it’s gone, I feel kind of … well you know.”  
  
“Horny,” Harley grins.  
  
“That too,” Peter agrees carefully, trying not to think of the implications.  
  
“I figured out your secret,” Harley says cheerily.  
  
Peter’s heart thuds. “What?”  
  
“How many secrets are you hiding?” Harley laughs. “Let’s see, in this body, I’ve got crazy good sight, hearing, and taste … crazy strength – I broke your closet door by the way … and I stick to things …” He demonstrates by sticking the remote to the flat of his palm and turning it over. “So I guess I’m Spider-man, right?”  
  
Peter sighs. “You got me.”  
  
Harley winks. “What other secrets are you worried about?” he asks. “You got a crush on a girl, maybe?”  
  
“No,” Peter assures him. “Spider-man is a big enough secret.”  
  
“Who else knows?” Harley demands.  
  
“Stark, May, and err … Ned.”  
  
“MJ?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Bullshit,” Harley says. “She knows something.”  
  
“Nope,” Peter insists.  
  
Harley snorts. “So spill ... I need to know everything. Give me the deets.”  
  
Peter pulls out his laptop and shows Harley footage of the night they swapped. He explains about the spider bite and how Tony found him, and the trip to Germany. Harley wants to know about the limits of his powers and how he learned how to do what he can do.  
  
“Where are the web shooter things?” he asks.  
  
“In my room,” Peter says. “They're mechanical, not biological. Ew. You don’t need them.”  
  
“Why not?” Harley grins. “I can’t be Spider-man for a few days? We have no idea how long this thing will last.”  
  
“No!” Peter insists. “It’s dangerous.”  
  
“You’ve been doing this for how long? Since you were what … fifteen?”  
  
“I was an idiot,” Peter snorts. “No idea what I was doing or how dangerous it was.”  
  
“Spoilsport,” Harley pouts.  
  
Harley has been shopping and wants to make dinner. By the time May gets home, he’s got a roast and potatoes in the oven and is showing Peter how to slice vegetables.  
  
“Isn’t this cute?” May coos in delight.  
  
“Least I can do to thank you Miss May,” Harley says. “For letting me stay a couple of days.”  
  
“He knows about Spider-man,” Peter says.  
  
“Ah ha,” May nods. “Hard to keep that sort of thing a secret.”  
  
“It’s kinda cool,” Harley says cheerily.  
  
“Boys,” May sighs. “It’s terrifying for me.”  
  
Harley grins.  
  
“Where’d you learn to cook?” May asks him.  
  
“My mom used to be a cook in a restaurant,” Harley explains. “So she taught me. But of course, that also means that she used to work almost every evening so I used to be in charge of making dinner for me and my sister.”  
  
“Ah ha.”  
  
“I went home while everyone was out and got some clothes for Peter and other stuff,” Harley continues.  
  
“Have you heard from Tony?” May asks.  
  
“He’s been busy, but he’s flying back to New York tonight,” Harley nods. “Says Happy will pick us up after school tomorrow and we can brainstorm face-to-face.”  
  
“There was a movie about this whole body swap thing,” May says thoughtfully. “With Meg Ryan.”  
  
“How’d it happen?” Peter asks.  
  
May wrinkles her nose. “I can’t remember what it was called,” she says. “But I think it started with a kiss. This old guy kissed the Meg Ryan character on her wedding day and the whole movie is them trying to figure out how to reverse it.”  
  
Both boys stare at her.  
  
“I’m pretty sure we didn’t …” Peter says.  
  
“How’d they reverse it?” Harley asks.  
  
“I think it was another kiss,” May says. “But it’s been so long since I saw it.”  
  
Harley gives Peter a speculative look.  
  
“No!” he says sharply. “That’s bullshit. It’s just a movie.”  
  
“What have we got to lose?” Harley asks. “Don’t you want to go back to being Spider-man?”  
  
“Yes!”  
  
“Well then.”  
  
May laughs. “Oh this should be cute!”  
  
“May!” Peter exclaims.  
  
“Here,” Harley says with a grin. “Quick, before she finds her camera and really embarrasses us.” He grabs the back of Peter’s neck and pulls him close.  
  
And kisses him.  
  
Peter freezes, not entirely sure what to do.  
  
Clearly Harley _does _know what to do. His lips are firm against Peter’s and his tongue forces Peter’s lips open. His fingers press into Peter’s neck.  
  
Peter pulls away with a gasp, feeling breathless.  
  
Harley grins at him.  
  
“Did it work?” May asks.  
  
“No,” Peter mutters, his heart still thumping uncomfortably.__


	3. He's having too much fun

“What are you wearing?” Peter complains as they get ready for school.

“What?” Harley smirks. “You have a nice body. Why are you hiding it under baggy sweats and ugly t-shirts?”

“You’re supposed to be incognito,” Peter hisses. “Not running around, trying to get people’s attention.”

Harley twirls in his form-fitting Henley and tight jeans.

Peter scowls.

They’re back at school impersonating each other and Peter is more and more sure that they’re somehow going to get caught. Although who in their right mind will jump to the conclusion that two students have swapped bodies is anyone’s guess.

He’s doing fine in Harley’s classes although the teachers are oddly aggressive and irritable with him.

“Why is Mr. Morrison so snappish?” he asks Harley irritably.

“Eh,” Harley shrugs. “I may have made him look bad in class one day. He was going on about Keynes and I pointed out that neo-liberal ideology shouldn’t be taught in school as if it’s the only economic theory out there.” 

“Huh,” Peter nods thinking that MJ has complained of the same thing.

“And Martinez?”

“Totally ignored the blatant bullying going on under her nose and I called her out on it.”

“Right …”

Girls keep looking at him. He has no idea why. Nor any idea of what to do. Smile? Ignore them? Wave? Instead, he slinks lower in his seat and pretends he does not hear them.

They meet up at lunch. Ned still looks sad and somewhat betrayed. He keeps shooting dirty looks at Peter-in-Harley’s-body as if he’s stolen his friend.

Peter thinks that’s not fair since he’s actually added a new person to their motley crew. He’s not sure that Harley has any friends at this school although Flash (of all people) has been suspiciously friendly in the hallways.

MJ scowls at them. “You’re skipping Decathalon practice again?”

“Ah yeah,” Harley grins. “Going to the tower to hang with Tony.”

MJ looks disapproving.

“Do I really need to study?” Harley asks cheekily. “I mean, I’m the smartest guy on the team, right? You gonna find a replacement just because I miss a practice once in a while?”

“I’m the captain,” she reminds him.

“And a darned good one,” Harley agrees.

Ned is looking at his buddy in absolute shock.

Peter sighs. “We should … ah … get going?” 

Happy picks them up after school and drives them north through the city. Harley chatters cheerfully about his classes and the new people he’s meeting in Peter’s classes.

“Did you partner up with Lee-Anne in history?” he asks Peter. “She was really eager to help on that project.”

“No. She asked, but I decided to work on my own.”

“Why?” Harley complains. “She is cute as hell.”

“I don’t think she’s that smart so she’s not really going to help,” Peter explains.

Harley gives him a funny look. “So?”

Peter shrugs.

“You like girls, right?” Harley asks. He squints. “I’m in your body now – would I know if you were gay?”

“I like girls,” Peter snaps. “I just … I just …”

“Interesting question though,” Harley murmurs. “If a straight guy and a gay guy swapped bodies … is sexuality in the body or the brain?”

“Pretty sure it’s in the brain,” Peter insists.

Happy is frowning at them in the rear view mirror. Peter flips the switch to raise the barrier so that he can’t see into the back of the car anymore.

“But you’re not interested in going out with any girls?” Harley persists. “I mean, you could. I wouldn’t mind.”

“No … I ah … I’m more of a relationship kind of guy.”

“You gotta go on a date to start a relationship,” Harley points out.

Peter sighs.

Tony is delighted to see his two favourite teenagers although somewhat surprised at the circumstances.

“Any idea how to reverse it?” Peter asks urgently.

“Not yet,” Tony answers lightly.

Harley wants to test out his new Spidey powers so he changes into workout clothes and hits Tony’s fancy gym with its climbing wall.

Peter watches as Harley jumps and climbs and falls and bounces with glee, shouting in excitement each time he learns something new.

“Want to take one of my suits for a test drive?” Tony asks Peter. “That’s what Harley has been working on recently. There’s one made just for him.”

“No thanks.”

They watch Harley flip backwards off a wall. 

“He’s having more fun being me than I was,” Peter complains.

Tony squints at him. “Wonder why, huh?”

They eat dinner with Tony who manages to eat, interrogate them about school, flip through details from the Spider suit feed, and toss ideas for new ironman suit improvements all at the same time. It’s exhausting just watching him.

Harley has IDEAS … both technical upgrades to the ironman suit (Peter has never even thought of giving an opinion on something so intrinsically tied to Tony) and suggestions for the Spider-man suit.

“You shouldn’t have to verbalize a command to the AI,” Harley suggests. “That’s not secure. You should have a way for the system to read brain waves or something.”

“Her name is Karen,” Peter points out.

“That’s a great idea,” Tony agrees. “But how would the system recognize specific commands from the whirlwind of random thoughts? Peter almost killed a classmate with EDITH when he wished the guy was dead.”

“That’s not …!” Peter complains.

“Hardcore, man,” Harley laughs.

“That’s not what happened,” Peter insists.

“What?” Tony laughs. “You didn’t call a drone strike on some guy because he flirted with MJ?”

Harley looks interested. “MJ, huh?”

“It’s nothing,” Peter hisses.


	4. MJ is pretty smart

Peter slouches into class the next day with Harley’s books and homework. A girl he barely recognizes slides her chair next to his.

“Harley,” she murmurs in a low voice. “What’s up with you?”

Peter jumps, still unused to the loss of his spidey-sense. It’s driving him crazy that people can sneak up on him so easily.

“I … ah …” he says warily.

She slides a hand lightly over his thigh. “You’ve been so stand-offish lately,” she says with a pout.

“Um, sorry,” Peter whispers, his heart hammering heavily.

“You haven’t forgotten about me, have you?”

“No, no, no,” he assures her while frantically trying to remember her name (Sarah? Shondra? Sondra?)

“I can’t stop thinking about that night,” she says with a soft smile. “Want to go again?”

“What?”

“To the football game,” she prods him.

Peter gasps like a fish out of water. Another senior girl walks past and shoots him a dirty look. The girl removes her hand from his leg and scowls at the girl walking by.

He can still feel the heat from her hand on his leg.

“I … um …” he tries again for some coherence.

“It’s like you’ve lost interest,” she complains. “Are you seeing someone else?”

“No, no, no!” he assures her. “It’s just I’ve got a LOT going on right now what with the internship and everything.”

The teacher calls for attention and the girl slides her chair back to her own desk.

Peter texts Harley - a head’s up about your girlfriend would have been nice!

\- Girlfriend????  
  
\- Football game ring any bells?  
  
\- Oh Sandra …  
  
\- YES!!!  
  
\- A bit clingy if you ask me  
  
\- Ok, but what do I do now?  
  
\- Go to the football game with her?  
  
Peter scowls and puts his phone away.

Classes are going OK – he’s able to keep up. But he’s missing Ned like crazy.

Flash approaches as Peter is fiddling with Harley’s locker. He suppresses an urge to flinch. In Harley’s body, he’s actually taller than Flash and for some reason, Flash seems more twitchy, less arrogant.

“Hey, got plans after school?” Flash asks.

“What? No.”

“Want to come and hang at my place?”

“Excuse me?”

Flash shrugs like he’s trying to be cool. “We can swing by Compact Disc – you know that place I was telling you about?”

“No,” Peter says firmly.

“OK,” Flash nods agreeably. “Maybe some other day.”

Peter catches a glimpse down the hall of Harley and MJ walking together. It never stops being weird to see his own body, in school, doing things ... It’s like looking at himself in a mirror and yet not. Right now, Harley (in Peter’s body) is animated, waving his arms around like he’s describing something dramatic. An explosion maybe.

And MJ laughs at whatever he’s telling her.

Peter freezes. He doesn’t think he’s ever made MJ laugh – at least not intentionally.

Harley touches MJ’s back lightly as they head into the cafeteria.

Peter waits for Harley’s hand to burst into flames or for MJ to smack him. But she smiles (!!!) at Harley and they vanish from view.

Peter slams his locker shut in frustration.

Ned stops him in the hallway before he can storm into the cafeteria. 

“Hey Harley, maybe let’s go eat outside , huh?” Ned suggests.

“What? Why?” Peter demands.

“There’s a nice spot under the tree beside the track,” Ned urges him.

“I usually eat in the cafeteria,” Peter argues.

“I know,” Ned nods. “But for today …?”

“Why?” Peter doesn’t mean to sound belligerent, but Ned holds up his hands anyways.

“Look,” Ned says quietly. “Peter has had this massive crush on MJ for like forever, and finally he’s screwed up his courage or whatever, and he’s talking to her, and maybe we should just give them some space.”

Peter hesitates. “You think he’s making a move?”

Ned laughs. “At the glacial speed he moves, he’ll be old and grey before he goes in for a kiss, but ah … we could maybe give them some privacy.”

Peter hesitates. The last thing he wants to do is give Harley some one-on-one time with MJ.

Ned watches him curiously. “How’s that project coming along?” he asks.

“What? What project?” Peter frowns as he follows Ned outside.

Ned sighs. “The one you’re working on with Peter. Physics, right?”

“Um, yeah. It’s a bit slow,” Peter nods.

“Peter’s not taking physics this year,” Ned points out, looking disapproving.

Peter winces. “Oh yeah, I wasn’t listening. It’s chemistry actually. And we’re almost done.”

It’s painful to have these difficult, uncomfortable conversations with his best friend. He misses Ned like crazy but he can’t figure to how to get past Ned’s suspicions. It’s not like he start every conversation with ‘hey, do you remember …?’

It’s pretty clear that Ned doesn’t like Harley very much and Peter can hardly blame him. 

They eat lunch awkwardly and make lame excuses to go their separate ways.

Peter checks out the cafeteria and the library but Harley and MJ are no-where to be found.

So he does a very un-Peter like thing and skips the rest of the school day. He buys a sandwich, a package of chips, and a soft drink from the local deli and goes to a quiet local park to sit on a bench.

He’s been sitting there for a while, watching the birds flit around and the ducks quack at each other and the squirrels chase each other around when someone approaches his bench. He keeps his eyes averted. 

“Mind if I sit here?” a familiar voice asks.

He jumps.

MJ is standing in front of him, looking quiet and thoughtful.

“MJ!” he squeaks. “Yes, yes, of course. Why are you here? Don’t you have history right now?”

“Funny you would know that,” she says, sitting next to him.

“I … ah … Peter told me,” he nods awkwardly.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to sneak up on you,” she says idly.

“What?” Peter says. “We haven’t even known each other that long.”

MJ raises one eyebrow in that bemused way she has.

“I looked for you at lunchtime,” Peter says carefully. “I guess you and Peter … ah … wanted some one-on-one time.”

“I’m not interested in him that way,” MJ says coolly.

“In Peter?” he asks, his heart sinking.

“In Harley,” she corrects him.

“But … I’m Harley,” Peter says carefully, checking his hands for confirmation. Yup – still Harley’s hands, Harley’s body.

“Are you?” MJ asks mildly.

“Yes, of course,” Peter says, his voice getting higher with anxiety. “Who else would I be?”

“How much do you know about Harley and his family?” she asks. “Do you know his mother’s maiden name or his sister’s middle name or even his address in Tennessee?”

“I … of course I do!” he insists. “I’m Harley. How would you even know those things?”

MJ sighs and touches his arm gently. “Peter,” she says softly. “You’re keeping a million secrets, but this is one you can let go.”

Peter opens his mouth to say something and then throws his head back. “Oh my god, how do you know?”

“I told you,” she answers smugly. “I’m observant.”

He sighs.

“Who else knows?” she asks.

“Just May and Tony.”

“You need to tell Ned,” she advises him gently. “He’s dying.”

“Yeah.”

She strokes his arm gently as they sit quietly on the bench.

“He told me something interesting,” MJ says after a while.

“Huh?”

“Harley said you had a crush on me.”

“What? No! I mean you’re great and all …” Peter falters. “But that’s not … that’s just …” His ears are turning red he’s sure.

MJ gives him A LOOK.

And Peter folds. “Yeah,” he admits. “For a while now.”

MJ looks pleased.

“Do you … um … do you … ah?” he says awkwardly.

“Yes,” she says.

“What?”

“I like you too,” she clarifies quickly, sounding a little bit nervous which can’t be right because she’s MJ and MJ is NEVER anything less than cool and collected.

Peter squints at her, not quite believing what she’s just said.

She smiles. “Despite the flakiness and the frequent absences and the fact that you are always seem one minor mishap away from a full blown crisis …”

“Jeez … thanks,” he says. “I mean I guess.”

She nods seriously. “Imagining your next excuse for missing practice is wildly entertaining.”

Peter frowns, wondering what she means by that.

MJ scoots a little closer and touches his hair lightly.

Peter flinches. “What are you doing?”

“You just said you liked me,” she points out.

“Yeah, I do. Like … a lot.”

“Well then?” 

He hesitates.

“You don’t want to kiss me?” MJ asks.

“Oh I do,” he assures her. “I mean sorry! I would totally like to … um … kiss you! Absolutely! But not now. Not here, in this body. It would just be weird.”

MJ pulls away. “OK.”

“Seriously?” he asks.

“Sure,” she nods. 

“We’re hoping it’s temporary,” he explains. “Tony is working on a fix.”

MJ nods and strokes his hand gently.


	5. Asgardian magic fix

Peter makes his own way to the tower, has a snack, and settles down to finish Harley’s homework. At some point Tony wanders by, half moon glasses sitting low on his nose and a tablet tucked under his arm.

“You OK?” he asks gently.

“Just … yeah,” Peter mutters. 

“Really?”

“No, not really,” he admits. “Do you have any idea how to reverse this … thing? I’m getting really tired of not being me.”

“Not yet kiddo,” Tony admits. “But I’m working on it. Apparently there were Asgardians in New York that night. I’m following up on a lead.”

“Asgardian? Like Thor?”

“Well yeah – he is king,” Tony smiles at Peter. “And this whole thing smells like magic if you know what I mean.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in magic.”

“Well, not in the wave-your-magic-wand kind of magic,” Tony agrees. “But considering the things I’ve seen and done, I’d be a fool not to admit that there are some things our Migardian science just can’t figure out yet.”

“Uh huh.”

Why don’t you head down to the lab? I think Harley’s looking for someone to bounce ideas off. You can rein in his crazier proposals.” Tony smiles, his eyes crinkling. “Is it bad that I need you to be the voice of reason?”

Peter goes downstairs where Harley is cheerfully tinkering with the Ironboy suit that Tony made for him.

“Ah ha!” he greets Peter with delight. “You’re here. Do you mind stepping into this thing while I make some adjustments? I have to wear lifts if I want to see out the faceplate.”

“Sure,” Peter agrees warily.

The suit is oddly cozy rather than claustrophobic. Peter sticks his hand in the gauntlet and flexes the metal fingers. The screen in the facemask flickers to life.

“You have to say ‘power on’” Harley advises.

“It doesn’t read your mind yet?”

“Nope,” Harley grins. “But I still think it’s a great idea. Keeps your opponents from knowing what you’re gonna do, right?”

“But how is the AI going to filter out what you really want from the random stray thoughts just bouncing around?” Peter asks.

“Huh?”

“You know that movie ‘Up?’” Peter asks. “They put a translator device on the dog and it just runs around saying, what’s that? what’s that? what’s that? oh a squirrel! what’s that? gotta pee … what’s that? Well, that’s what my brain is like … just firing madly all the time. Karen would fry her circuits trying to figure out what I wanted.”

“Who’s Karen?”

“My AI.”

“Oh yeah, you gave her a name,” Harley sniffs. “I see your point, but I still think …”

Tony stalks in looking worried. “There’s a situation downtown,” he announces.

“Like a mission?” Harley asks.

“Yeah,” Tony mutters, swiping distractedly at his tablet. “Crazy group of bad guys that we’ve got to deal with plus massive crowds downtown.”

“Can I come?” Harley asks.

“What?” Peter squeaks. “No, no … you can’t.”

Tony looks up, squinting. “You got your suit?” he asks Harley.

“Yup.”

“OK – Happy is firing up the jet. Grab your stuff and catch him.”

Harley pumps his fist in delight and runs off. Peter struggles to figure out how to get out of the Ironboy suit. 

“Let me out!” he snarls at the AI. “Power on! Open up!”

Tony frowns at him as he stumbles out of the suit.

“What are you thinking letting Harley go on a mission?” Peter demands. “He’s not ME!”

Tony rolls his eye. “It’s an all-hands-on-deck kind of situation,” he says. “He’ll be fine.”

“It’s dangerous!”

“It’s crowd control,” Tony counters.

“But!”

“What’s the difference between him and you?” Tony asks. “You’re both crazy reckless teenagers with half a brain cell between the pair of you.”

“I … I …” Peter babbles.

“Why don’t you come too?” Tony suggests.

“I can’t just … come!” Peter exclaims. “In this body, I’m just an ordinary …”

Tony waves at the Ironboy suit. “It’s all gassed up and ready to go,” he says. “Come if you want, but I’ve got to go now. No time for idle chit chat. FRIDAY!”

He marches off, the Ironman suit forming around him as he shoots off questions to his AI.

Peter stands in the now empty lab, his heart thudding furiously. 

“Fuck.”

After a few minutes, he walks over the massive monitor. “Friday,” he says carefully. “Can you show me what’s going on?”

Obligingly, Friday offers a bird’s eye view of Central Park showing a small gang of clearly enhanced individuals wreaking havoc.

“Who are they?” Peter asks.

“Preliminary data indicates off world enhanced beings,” Friday says. “Human-shaped, but not of Earth.”

“Aliens again?”

“Possibly from Vanaheim,” Friday agrees.

Peter watches the footage of the Avengers fighting the human-looking aliens with their powerful weapons. Thor seems to be leading the battle.

“Where’s Harley?”

“Crowd control,” Friday says, switching the image on the screen to massive unruly crowds thronging the streets. Spider-man appears to be trying to herd them away from certain areas, but with limited success.

“That’s a lot of people,” Peter notes uneasily.

“It’s a Black Lives Matter protest,” Friday explains.

“I wonder if MJ’s there,” Peter wonders. He knows that she is heavily involved with various progressive groups.

Peter drums his fingers on the desk and glances at the empty Ironboy suit. 

“How easy is it to fly the suit?” he asks Friday.

“I cannot give you an estimate,” she answers primly. “But the suit is controlled by a state-of-the-art AI. It’s designed to be idiot-proof.”

“I’ll bet,” Peter mutters. He climbs back into the suit. “Power on,” he says carefully. The suit closes around him and data flickers on a screen in front of him.

“Ah hello,” he says carefully.

“Access granted,” a woman’s voice murmurs softly in his ear. Peter jumps. Friday’s voice is kind of ageless but she sounds like a super competent secretary; Karen is downright maternal. THIS voice is soft and southern and almost sultry.

“How long will it take me to learn how to fly in this thing?” Peter asks.

“You don’t need to learn,” the AI answers. “If you punch in the coordinates, I can fly you to your destination. And on the way, I can explain the basic navigational and weapons systems.”

It is possibly the most terrifying thing that Peter has done since he first tried to swing from between two buildings using his homemade webs. And even then, he already knew that he was super strong and likely to survive a fall. In Harley’s body, he feels soft and fragile and acutely vulnerable.

“Just don’t let me die,” he whispers to the sexy AI.

It’s a terrifying flight – fast and accurate though the flight plan is – Peter still shrieks in dismay as the suit swoops between buildings.

Tony greets him laconically as he arrives at the battle. “Better late than never, kiddo,” he says into Peter’s earpiece. “Are you weaponed up?’

“Yup.”

Tony gives him directions and for the first time in over a week, Peter feels confident that he can do this. Even though he’s fighting in a different way – he’s flying and hovering and shooting energy blasts at the bad guys – the battle is familiar. This is something he knows. This is something that he’s good at even using different tools.

He flies around and stuns the bad guys so that Thor can detain them somehow. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Harley (dressed as Spider-man obviously) try to engage with one of the enhanced aliens who sends him flying into a wall.

“Oof!” Peter winces in sympathy. HE would have dodged that hit, but Harley is still figuring stuff out.

And suddenly, it is all over. Thor does his magic trick of slamming his hammer on the ground and the aliens are sucked away by a giant highway of light. Peter really ought to get used to magic considering how often he witnesses these amazing displays. 

He lands on the grass, extremely grateful for the solid iron legs of the suit because he is wrung out and exhausted. If he were standing on his own, he’s not sure his legs would hold him.

Ironman lands near him and immediately flips up his faceplate. “Nice work kid!” he chatters cheerfully. “Very good flying! Are you up for shawarma? It’s kind of a tradition.”

“Um … yeah.”

Thor lands gracefully near-by. “Good work!” he exclaims happily. “What’s with all these people? Are you celebrating some sort of holiday? I’ve never seen such crowds.”

“It’s a protest,” Tony explains.

“Black Lives Matter,” Peter clarifies.

“Black Lives …?” Thor asks in puzzlement. “Do you mean Black people? And why the cry that their lives matter? Haven’t they always?”

“Oh Thor,” Tony grins at him. “Always so naïve thinking the best of Migardians.”

Thor scowls at him.

Peter decides that he can’t stay in this tin can any more and Harley isn’t worried about a secret identity so he issues a sharp command to the AI and steps out.

Thor lights up at the sight of him. “Starkson!” he says in delight. “I did not realize it was you in the new Ironman suit. Are you following a different path?”

Peter looks down at himself in shock, but he is still in Harley’s body. “I’m not … I’m not … how did you know?”

Thor wraps him in a bear hug that makes his ribs creak. “I have gone to battle with you more than once!” he reminds Peter. “Of course I know you. Even in disguise.”

Harley comes limping up to them “Holy shit,” he says, the fake white eyes on the suit widening at the sight of Thor.

Peter waves vaguely in his direction. “Thor, this is Harley Keener …”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Thor announces, shaking Harley’s hand with a grip that Peter knows from experience will crush fingers. “You did very well for your first battle. I noticed of course some minor misses, but you fought with great courage. How does it feel to be blooded?”

“Good, good,” Harley says breathlessly, flexing his hand ruefully.

Tony frowns. “The boys had a minor mishap,” he tells Thor. “Possibly involving Asgardian magic. As you can see they … ah …”

“Swapped bodies,” Thor nods calmly. “A good prank.”

“It was an accident,” Peter says. “We didn’t mean to.” 

Thor frowns.

“Do you happen to know how to un … swap bodies?” Tony asks.

“Of course,” Thor nods. “A basic spell – most kids can perform it in middle school.”

Peter feels lightheaded. “Then can you teach it to us or perform it and get us back to normal?” he asks desperately.

“Now?” Thor asks.

“If … possible?”

Thor nods agreeably and directs them to clasp arms in a warrior pose … not like that … like this … are Migardian warriors not taught these basic courtesies?

Peter hardly listens to whatever Thor is saying but suddenly there’s a yank as if he’s been pulled backwards into a wall and a dizzying sense of disorientation. Then pain, but a very familiar feeling. He gasps, doubling over, clutching his side.

“Peter! Kid!” Tony shouts.

“It’s ok,” he groans. “Just … ouch … busted ribs I think.”

Peter looks at his hands, covered in red Spider-man gloves and grins in delight. He’s back in his own body – halleluiah. 

Tony looks astonished. “It worked?”

“Yeah,” Peter says.

“Thank god,” Harley says looking pleased.

“Of course,” says Thor looking smug.

Tony is distracted and he flips his faceplate down. “We got company,” he announces.

The crowd of onlookers and protesters have been hovering a few feet away, held back apparently by respect, but one figure has broken free of the group and is running across the park.

Tony steps in front of the boys with his gauntlet up in a defensive stance, but Peter pushes him aside. “Stop it! It’s MJ!”

“What?”

MJ skids to a stop right in front of them. She’s festooned in flags and pins and carrying a poster board that says “Defund the Police” in rainbow colours. She’s wearing a t-shirt that says “science is true whether you believe it or not.” She’s breathless. She looks first at Peter, then at Harley, then back to Peter.

“Is it you?’ she asks. “Have you switched?”

And Peter wonders how long she’s known about Spider-man. He nods. MJ launches herself at him and wraps her arms around his neck. Dimly he’s aware of Harley looking smug.

He holds her tight burying his face in her neck. She feels so good.

She pulls away. “Are you hurt?” she demands.

“Busted ribs,” he admits. “Dumbass here didn’t know to dodge.”

“Hey!” Harley snorts. “I dodged more than you know.”

“What did you do to my toe?” Peter asks noticing the sharp pain.

“Stubbed it,” Harley shrugs.

Tony looks supremely unimpressed. “Time for us to get out of here,” he suggests.

“You don’t want to show support for the cause?” MJ asks cheekily. “Sign a few autographs?”

“Some of those signs says ‘eat the rich’ so no,” Tony responds coolly. “Harley, you with me?”

“Yeah,” Harley agrees. “I support Black Lives Matter and all, but I’m about to pass out. Feels like I could sleep for a week.”

“Well I for one would like to know more,” Thor announces. “Such widespread dissent should be listened to.” 

“This is MJ,” Peter explains. “And she can explain it to you.”

Thor takes MJ’s proffered hand and kisses the knuckles. “Pleased to meet you,” he says. 

Harley climbs into his suit and blasts off with Tony.

Thor and Peter and MJ walk towards the crowd with MJ trying to give Thor the coles notes explanation of some of the biggest protests in history. “So America has been in trouble for a long time,” she says. “What with racial inequality and religious extremism and political polarization and all, but this pandemic has really laid bare the vast inequalities in our society. And then there’s police brutality and a whole sense that the police are not held to the same set of rules as everyone else …”

Peter can still hear her explaining about police murders and tear gas and rubber bullets when he reaches the edge of the crowd.

“Do you support Black Lives Matter?” someone asks.

“Of course I do,” he says easily. 

He wades into the crowd, signing autographs and taking selfies. People want to give him pins, but he explains that he doesn’t have any pockets and he can’t pin anything to the suit. Someone offers him a large rainbow flag that he ties around his shoulder like a cape and then he attaches the pins he’s offered to the flag.

MJ makes her way to his side and grabs his hand.

“This is fun,” he tells her quietly. “But I’m about to hit a wall. Adrenaline crash coming.”

“Thor’s listening to demands,” MJ says smugly. “He’s going to bring them to the authorities.”

Peter looks over at Thor who is head and shoulders taller than anyone else. He has several mini flags – a rainbow flag, a trans flag and a women’s march flag – tucked into his blond hair and a bumper sticker that says “no-one is illegal” stuck to his breastplate. He is deep in earnest conversation with a small crowd of engaged activists.

“I hope he doesn’t think Tony is supreme leader or something,” MJ fusses.

“Everyone keeps under-estimating Thor,” Peter says. “But he’s a king – he has a pretty strong grasp of diplomacy and statesmanship.”

“I hope so,” MJ murmurs.

“He can take care of himself,” Peter says. “But I’m going to flag down my ride.” He points to Happy standing off in the distance in a three piece black suit.

MJ rolls her eyes.

“Don’t suppose I can convince you to come with me?” Peter asks.

“Can I bring my ‘abolish billionaires’ poster with me to a billionaire’s tower?” she asks.

“Sure,” Peter says. “When else are you going to have a chance to explain that accumulated wealth is immoral to an actual billionaire?”

MJ grins and takes his hand. They walk back to Happy who shepherds them onto the private jet parked discretely behind a tree.

“Surreal,” MJ announces in the jet and then again when they get to the tower.

“I need a shower,” Peter says firmly. “Make yourself at home – there’s food over there.”

He can hear her explaining her stance on a wealth tax to Happy. “Sure Tony Stark is a nice guy and look at the good he does, but it’s immoral for one person to have that much money and influence over other people’s lives,” she says. “Think of Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos and Mark Zuckerberg and the Koch brothers – they’re all supremely evil people who have used their extreme wealth to destabilize the country and deny fellow Americans opportunities in life. They’re so rich that if we took half their wealth, they’d still be able to live like kings …”

Peter grins to himself as he climbs into the shower. Every bit of him aches; he’s forgotten the feeling of being perpetually bruised and banged up. 

After his shower, he tapes his ribs, dresses in clean jeans and a t-shirt and steps into the hallway.

MJ is waiting for him.

“Oh hey,” he says awkwardly. “Sorry, were you waiting for the … ah bathroom?”

“There are only about ten bathrooms on this floor alone,” she points out.

“Right,” he agrees. “Uh huh.”

She waits.

“So you … ah … figured out the whole … other things, huh?” he asks.

MJ raises one perfect eyebrow. “The spandex suit in your closet was a clue.”

“When?”

“I figured it out in Washington,” she says.

“Wow, that long ago, huh?”

“I told you,” she says. “I’m observant.”

Peter nods.

MJ steps closer so she’s practically nose to nose with him.

He gulps. His world narrows to just MJ standing inches from him. He can count her freckles and imagine what her hair would feel like …

“Well …?” she asks softly.

Peter closes the last few inches and kisses her softly and uncertainly. She responds in kind, tentative and gentle, but eager.

They kiss, his hands going carefully around her waist; her fingers threading through his hair.

And just for a moment, all is right in the world.


End file.
